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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787760">A Thief Most Remorseless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/pseuds/Kylenne'>Kylenne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Balcony Scene, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Black Female Character, Dirty Talk, Everybody Lives, F/M, Implied Relationships, Kinktober, Multi, October Prompt Challenge, Polyamory, Public Sex, Seduction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/pseuds/Kylenne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sultana's Palace is full of terrible memories for Gisele, but upon an enchanted eve following the liberation of Ala Mhigo, at a fete for its most famed and prodigal of sons, would she wipe those memories away with far better ones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Thief Most Remorseless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was more than passing strange to be gathered once more amongst such illustrious personages, there in the Sultana’s Palace; none could deny it, least of all Gisele, for when she last Gisele stood in the Fragrant Chamber, she had been manhandled to ground by Ilberd, having been falsely accused of regicide, and sprayed with Raubahn’s blood.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>This night, she had also come at the Sultana’s behest; but to feast and celebrate Raubahn’s service to Ul’dah, and bid him a grand adieu before he returned at last to his freshly liberated homeland. As Flame Captain, it was Gisele’s honor and duty to attend her beloved General a final time, and she stood proudly at his right arm as he formally passed the torch to his diminutive son, leaving the Immortal Flames in Pipin’s capable hands. And Nanamo laid as lavish a table as had any sovereign of her long and storied dynasty, with course after course of savory, well-spiced delights. Tales of Raubahn’s exploits flowed as freely as the finest spice wine, as his brothers and sisters in arms regaled all gathered with reminiscing, from the blood sands to the fields of Carteneau and beyond. Never one to rest upon his laurels, the humble, gentle giant of a man appeared delightfully bashful during all of it, not least of which due to the hearty ribbing it earned him from Admiral Merlwyb. It was bittersweet, to Gisele; and mayhap if events had not transpired the way they did two years prior, upon that previous fateful night within the palace, she might have dwelled more upon it, and the old infatuation she held for him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But, as was expected, Ser Aymeric was in attendance, and even upon an eve meant to honor the keeper of the Immortal Flames, Gisele’s eyes never left the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. For his regal, ethereal beauty was polished as the most gleaming jewel in the desert night; for once he had shed the gilded formality of his armor, exchanging it for the most delicate lace and rich brocade, ever in that shade of royal blue which favored his cerulean eyes just so.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gisele found herself searching him out amidst the crowd, when the feasting was over, and the minstrels took up lively airs as the distinguished guests were ushered to the floor to mingle and dance and make merry as they so pleased. Of a surety did Aymeric fair dazzle in every room, but even amidst the elite of Ul’dah and so much of the Alliance, he lit up the night with his charm, his infectious laugh, his every graceful gesture—so carefully considered. He held lowly commissioned officers and merchant princes alike in his thrall, and moved with effortless ease among them, as surely as he did upon the field of battle. Such was Aymeric’s charisma, and the power of his magnetism; and he wielded it as steadily as he did the ancestral blade of House Borel. What caused her to admire him so was the fact that none of it was affected; he was no unctuous courtier, with false smiles and a honeyed tongue offering sophistry and insincerity, no. Aymeric was indeed cunning, mayhap the most cunning man Gisele had ever known, but he was exceedingly earnest, and sincere.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their eyes met, across the ballroom, and Aymeric’s lips parted slightly, for the briefest of moments, before he coyly turned away with a slight smile, returning to his conversation with Merlwyb. And Gisele raised her hand to her heart, unconsciously, before searching for one of the servants circulating with wine to steady herself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The old Flame General found her shortly thereafter, instead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Instinctively, she raised her fist to her shoulder in salute, but Raubahn bid her to rest at ease, handing her a glass of rich red wine.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thank you, my lord,” Gisele said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m to understand congratulations are in order,” Raubahn said, with a slight, wry grin. “Is it true that Ser Aymeric conspired with Lord Haurchefant and the Azure Dragoon to seek your hand?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yes, my lord,” Gisele said, smiling before taking a sip. Word traveled fast in Ul’dah, as ever, but she supposed it was sped along by Aymeric sinking to his knees before the whole of the Alliance army in Ala Mhigo. Never mind that they had already wed in secret, the foursome; eloping on a whim just before Gisele and Haurchefant journeyed to the Far East alongside the other Scions, with only the beloved Temple Knight chaplain Mother Sephrenia the wiser, for it was she who sanctified the union. The four had agreed in the wake of Ala Mhigo’s liberation to make their union at last known to all Eorzea, for Ishgard needed somewhat to celebrate, besides. “We are only just beginning to make preparations, of course, given the war effort. But you have my solemn vow that yours shall be among the first invitations sent, to attend at Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Betimes I rue the day those bloody Ishgardians stole you from me,” Raubahn said, chuckling quiet and low. “But I find that I cannot begrudge you this happiness, Gisele. For one who has fought so fiercely, and for so many causes not your own, you have well earned this bit of respite. And I have no doubt your flame shall burn all the brighter in Coerthas.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gisele could not help the warmth that crept into her cheeks, spreading through her as surely as did the hearty Gyr Abanian vintage they enjoyed. “I…thank you, Raubahn. For all you have done. The Flames mean a great deal to me, still, despite everything. They never lost faith in me, nor did you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It should be I thanking <em>you</em>, lass,” Raubahn replied, shaking his head softly. “How could I lose faith in one such as you? You’ve worn the Scales better than anyone who ever called himself a Flame, and have done Ul’dah prouder than any born to her, even when she did not deserve it. The lives you’ve touched here are innumerable, my own most of all—this night would not have been possible without you, and your selfless courage. You’ve given me back my home, Gisele, and for that I shall be forever in your debt. And though it pains me for Nanamo’s sake that Ul’dah should lose us both, full glad am I to see you’ve found a home of your own. I only pray that your Ishgardian knights cherish you well, as Ul’dah did not.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We shall do our utmost, General, I assure you.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric had strode across the room, and greeted Raubahn with a gracious incline of his head. And not for the first time did it strike her that he made it so difficult to fathom that Ishgard had been so aloof for so very long, for he stood amongst the Alliance as though he had been there all along, his rightful place.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Lord Commander,” Raubahn said warmly, returning his greeting. “Come to steal my Captain from me again, are you?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric’s laugh was warm, though he brought a silk gloved hand before his mouth with smooth and steady grace. “Pray, forgive me my trespass, General Aldynn. I came bearing only the gladest tidings, I assure you. I pray the night finds you well, for it is much deserved. And may Rhalgr guide your hand, my friend…for though Ul’dah shall grieve, so shall Ala Mhigo be all the more blessed to have her most distinguished prodigal to help guide her through these momentous times,” he said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Raubahn extended his hand to Aymeric, who clasped it not, but rather Raubahn’s arm—in the manner Gisele had seen countless times between the gladiators of Ul’dah, a gesture of brotherhood upon the blood sands, for the respect of one’s comrades in arms. That Aymeric should know it came as little surprise to Gisele, but she marveled at it nonetheless, for what such a thing meant. It was not offered lightly, and was mayhap that much more meaningful from an Ishgardian knight commander, after at last redeeming his people’s absence at Carteneau. Aymeric had shed blood alongside Raubahn, upon the field of Ala Mhigo, after all.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The gesture was not lost upon the old Bull of Ala Mhigo, who blinked hard a moment, before gripping Aymeric’s proffered arm tightly, nodding. “I am proud to call you a brother, Aymeric de Borel. Let none among Eorzea say that Ishgard yet lacks honor, or loyalty,” Raubahn said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Even though I have so thoroughly stolen your Flame Captain?” Aymeric said, with an impish little smile.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was a full bellied cackle burst forth from Raubahn, at Aymeric’s teasing, and Gisele believed they might have heard it in Ala Mhigo. “I would not keep you from your betrothed, ser knight,” he said at last when his, grinning from ear to ear. “And I thank you for your well-wishes. But go, be with her now. The night is young—and I am not.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Raubahn bowed to them, his eyes warm with affection, and took his leave of them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When they were along, Aymeric took Gisele’s hand into his own, raising her fingers to his lips to kiss them warmly. “And how does the night find you, my Lady Fortemps?” he asked, softly purring against her knuckles; the sensation of his hot breath upon them fair sent a pleasant tingle of warmth up her spine.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sweeter, now, more than bitter,” Gisele said softly, before taking a long drink from her glass.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Are you certain?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric gazed upon her intently, his steely blue eyes seemingly boring right through her as he so often did; and before such a gaze, did Gisele feel her heart lay itself bare, as it so often did. She could not dissemble for his sake, for he would never permit it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I…” Gisele began, but faltered, and lost her words as she lowered her eyes upon her glass. She shut her eyes in the briefest moment of repose, shuddering against the power of memory. “I still see his blood upon the marble,” she mumbled, low and soft.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was then that the minstrels took up a slow, stately air, with the romantic wailing of Thavnairian strings drifting through air thick with the scent of sandalwood. An old Ul’dahn ballad, it was, mayhap as old as the old, unsundered kingdom to hear Nanamo tell it, when Gisele first heard it played for a royal audience.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Dance with me, my love,” Aymeric said, and it was no request, this—his sultry tenor fair resounded with the timbre of command. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All the more fortunate, perhaps, that Gisele could not deny him, not with the way his eyes so smoldered. Aymeric graciously accepted her empty glass, and she permitted him to lead her across the marble floor, to where other guests had paired off in kind, even as he smoothly deposited said glass upon the tray of a passing servant. And, as always, she was content to follow his lead, as his hand lowered upon the small of her back, another entwined in her own high in a perfect, graceful line, and drew her into a most familiar Ishgardian waltz.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was so easy to lose herself in those eyes which burned so brightly and so keenly; she had done it a hundred times, but none so much as in that moment, as they drifted in heartstopping grace upon the floor. That they had gathered an audience mattered not, for Gisele was only scarcely aware of it, upon the edge of consciousness drowning deep within each other’s arms, turning and turning, gliding as though upon the very air, so light were their steps. And as they danced so gracefully, in that manner of ease and familiarity in one another’s bodies that only lovers had, everything else faded…the memories of blood and betrayal which fair saturated this place, her guilt, her regrets…all of it became as shimmering waves of heat in the burning Thanalan sky, in the warmth of Aymeric’s touch, the elegance of his smile, the fluidity of his steps. Gisele surrendered to him, gladly and for what seemed to be an age, for there was no safer place to be than in his arms, and she felt her heart soar in so doing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>At last, he twirled her a final time, his other hand gracefully sweeping behind his back before bringing it to rest once more upon her back; he drew her closer to him, until she was pressed tightly against his body, the soft ivory lace of his cravat brushing against her nose.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Is the night sweeter, my <em>sihaya</em>?” he asked, and Gisele fair melted at his choice of endearment, for it was an old Hannish affection, meaning “desert rose”, but none had ever said it with such affection—and such breathtaking sensuality—as Aymeric de Borel, when he bent low to whisper it in her pointed ear. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“As honey,” Gisele replied, a bit breathlessly, leaning into his embrace—and was greeted by the sensation of rigid hardness pressed against her thigh. She bit her lip, against the plethora of depraved thoughts which swirled in her mind all of a sudden at the revelation of it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric’s smile was dazzling, to be sure, but held the keenest of edges within it; his eyes shone bright, his olive skin flushed. “Mayhap shall it become all the sweeter,” he said, with hands trembling against her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Mayhap indeed, ser knight,” Gisele purred. “Shall we take our leave, then?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric offered his arm to her, which she gladly accepted; they made their farewells, as politely as they could despite the urgency they both felt, and left the Fragrant Chamber, to stroll arm and arm down a shadowy corridor leading deeper into the palace. The Ishgardian delegation enjoyed the hospitality of the eastern wing, with the rooms generously granted Aymeric.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Too far.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>For Gisele remembered this corridor well: when last she stalked these rarefied halls, she had raced down it in the company of her Scion companions to search for the hidden passage leading to the catacombs of the palace, and the old escape tunnels, as a wanted fugitive.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And she would forge a better memory.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Come here,” Gisele said, beckoning with an outstretched hand, and she led him to a secluded alcove; there were many interior courtyards within the Sultana’s palace, and the small cul de sac into which she lured Aymeric was a balcony that overlooked one such, a hothouse garden kept by Nanamo’s small army of botanists. She leaned with her back against the railing, thick and carved of sandstone, and deeper into the shadows cast by the merest flickering lamplight; Aymeric eagerly followed, wrapping his arms about her, pressing the heat of his body tightly against her, and she curled her fingers upon his cravat to draw him down upon her eagerly awaiting mouth.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A veritable torrent of desire was unleashed, then, for Aymeric parted her lips with a hot and sensuous tongue, his hands pulling at her wealth of long, silvery curls, before they rose up the satin back of her corset.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You inspire me to a recklessness most unbecoming, my lady,” Aymeric said, as his hands drifted back, further and further down, around the curve of her thick thighs to take her well-rounded derriere into a vice grip. “By the Fury, what would happen should we be caught by the Sultansworn?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“He who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose, my lord,” Gisele purred, laughing sensually as she found the laces of his breeches, and deftly unraveled them; his phallus was hot and throbbing beneath her hand, and she freed it from the restrictive smallclothes he wore, squeezing him for emphasis as she did. He sucked his teeth sharply against the moan which escaped his pouting lips at it, and nuzzled her neck in response, burying his tongue within her cleavage, caressing her cleft with slow strokes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Tis the thorn which is sweetest,” Aymeric breathed hot against her décolletage, and turned his attentions upward, devouring his way across the elegant line of her long neck, suckling her skin, nipping with his teeth. “I thought you craved it as I did.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gisele whimpered softly as she felt his hand slide up her thigh, beneath her ebon skirts; as was her wont, she was bare as her name day under them, and she spread her legs in invitation. “Oh gods, I do…tis sweeter still from you, my lord,” she whimpered.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What a wanton whore you are,” Aymeric moaned darkly against her, teasing her folds with a single finger, and Gisele gasped shivering in pleasure as much at the vulgarity with which he assailed her as the stroke of his thumb against her slickened pearl. He pressed hard against her entrance, but did nothing else, and his stillness drove her absolutely mad with want. “You’ve not an onze of shame, have you?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>In an impressive display of dexterity, Gisele pressed back upon her hands and pushed up onto the balustrade, resting precariously upon her knees, but perfectly balanced. “Should I? And what do you plan to do about it, my lord?” she said, spreading her thighs in challenge.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then Aymeric fell upon her, and pierced her deep, in a single hard thrust of his cock, making her cry out with a shudder of delight.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Footsteps sounded below them, in the courtyard, and Gisele froze in Aymeric’s grasp, fearing she may have indeed roused the Sultansworn stalking the halls; but the footsteps passed as quickly as they came, and the heightened rush of adrenaline was merely a goad to her desire. She shifted up a bit to unfold her legs from beneath her, only to wrap them tightly about his body, her ankles crossed against his back. Over and again, did Aymeric thrust inside her, with deep and deliciously rough strokes, cradling her in his arms as he rolled his hips up against her, grinding without mercy or remorse. And Gisele clung to him, riding him for all she was worth with her head thrown back in shameless surrender, giving herself over to the hedonistic pleasures of the flesh as Aymeric so skillfully coaxed from her hot body. For in such moments, he was as desperately wanton as she, raw and at last unfettered from the careful bonds placed upon him by his station. All that mattered to him was her, and he sank into her again and again, piercing her hard and fast enough that she heard his muscular thighs smacking against her own as he drilled his cock into her, the sultry rhythm to which he moaned like a writhing courtesan.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>In the end, she lunged forward and clamped her teeth hard against his cravat to muffle her cry of ecstasy, when her body shuddered full from head to toes curled inside her boots. Aymeric lurched into her only a heartbeat after, stiffening inside her, before biting down upon her neck and grunting low and guttural as he found release inside her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They stayed so entwined with one another for so long as they dared, Aymeric stroking her curls and whispering endearments. But Gisele truly feared discovery, and finally nudged Aymeric gently. Sore and unsteady as she was, and quite unable to do so of her own accord, he effortlessly lifted her from the balustrade and into his arms. Holding her tightly, he bore her deeper back into the corridor, toward his guest chambers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The night was young, indeed.</p>
</div><hr/><p>That Gisele wore an elegant silk scarf wrapped snuggly about her neck to the morning’s repast with the Alliance leaders was of little note, in truth, for she had become known quite well for her preference for gauzy, gossamer silk. Still, she keenly felt all eyes upon it—and her—when she took her seat beside Raubahn.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Aymeric’s, most of all.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That shade of blue suits you well, Mistress Surana,” he said warmly, with only a hint of mischief in his eyes, as he gingerly tipped a small decanter of cream into his tea.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gisele demurely lowered her eyes, smiling at him; it was his gift to her, as much a memento of the pleasures they’d shared as a practical covering for her pockmarked neck. “Thank you, my lord.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I trust you were able to find your way back to your quarters without incident, Lord Commander?” Raubahn asked. “I know the palace interior can be rather confusing at times, for guests.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric smiled.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No more so than the upper echelons of the Vault, I assure you. But I thank you for your concern nonetheless,” he replied.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Raubahn grinned then, all of a sudden, his steaming cup of tea held tightly in his grasp. “Good. Betimes it can get…thorny...to navigate.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Aymeric froze but the merest of moments, his knife halted in mid spread of sweet cream butter upon his croissant but the slightest.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“…tis a boon, then, that I should count botany as a hobby,” was all Aymeric said, and Gisele wanted desperately to laugh, even as her face grew hot in utter mortification.</p>
</div>
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